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Boobs Vs. Tits

Greetings fellow boob/tit lovers,

Today during the course of my daily activities, I ended up on Google image search with the keywords “boobs HD” because my friend did not like my GTAIV wallpaper of a hooker sucking on a lollipop whilst displaying her breasts ever so seductively.

The results that came up were comprised mainly of women’s upper bodies and most images focused solely on their cleavage which on many occasions were clearly (sometimes badly) Photoshopped out of proportions. So there I was, happy with this image as my new wallpaper.

Then I thought to myself: What is another name for boobs? TITS! Tits. Tits. Tits. A few backspace keys with a garnish of the keys ‘I’, ‘t’ and ‘s’, I had this in the Google search bar:

What came up aroused quite a bit of interest and curiosity in me (and my pants). It was a butt load of pictures of porn stars (and non-stars) showing their areola very confidently and sexually. I suppose confidence and sexuality are the two factors that fills their wallets, but that isn’t what I am on about. What I am curious about is why Google shows nude chicks when you switch ‘boobs’ with ‘tits’.

I suppose a good place to start would be the etymology of the two words.

Since I am not at all educated in the field where linguists work I looked it up on the almighty Google. Here is what it returned:

"Boob" is a 1950’s shortening of "booby", which in the 1930’s came from
“bubby”. Linguists aren’t sure, but “bubby” may derive from the German
“Bübbi” which means ‘teat’.
In 1347, when the bubonic plaque ravaged Europe, one of the symptoms of
the plaque was called bubos or boobos which was a swelling of the lymph
nodes, hence swelling of the chest can be referred to as boobs.

- snopes

Since this guyg/gal seems smart enough and since s/he copied that off of facebook, I guess I have to trust him/her. Now let us look for tits!

"breast," Old English titt (a variant of teat). But the modern slang tits (plural), attested from 1928, seems to be a recent reinvention from teat, used without awareness that it is a throwback to the original form. Titty, however, is on record from 1746 as "a dial. and nursery diminutive of teat."

-Online Etymology Dictionary

 

Well I guess the shit started when asstards started mixing German shit into English. Well, fuck. Not a bad idea though because now we have two words that despite referring to the same pair of objects give off a totally different level of perversion. Boobs is like a younger more innocent (maybe chinese) version of tits. I still don’t get why though. And I guess its just the evelution of language but it just ended up that way. I’m not sure if it actually has an explanation but I’ll leave that for next time. Tired of this shit now.

The Uneducated Stuff


Recently I wrote an email that I thought would be great for you lot to read. Names and potential horniness-causing material has been omitted. I bet I’m the first person on the interweb who posted their own email as a blog post! ;) And for a certain number of dumbasses online, that was sarcasm. Now go fuck yourself.
Dear  (I’m not going to tell you the name, you horny bastards!)
 
I am writing to you after quite a number of days, so I am sorry. Anyways, how are you? Its been so long since I talked to you deeply. Even though we talk almost everyday it feels like we haven’t had a soul-to-soul conversation for a long time. I guess for those to occur, you have to be present face to face with each other. Recently, I have been thinking, since that time you told me to be stable in one university, about security vs. living life to its fullest. I have been debating with myself on which pathway is a more desirable one to choose. It feels like a safe lifestyle, where you do everything cautiously so as to have a stable and safe future, is just that, future. Everyday, you are planning for the future, the future career, your future partner, your future kids, planning the kids’ future, and until the day you die and you feel like you missed out on those special moments in life that were in the present while you kept chasing the perfect future. I know it sounds cliche but hear me out.
The other choice is to live in the present and while still being careful about the future, not make your entire life’s goal, a chase of perfectionism. I feel like those people who dont get as much support in life as you and I, enjoy and experience life (in its core) very closely. They have those experiences that we simply couldnt have because we are cautious of our future. Although most of them end up with a low quality of life, which is why I’m not condoning that we leave university and just go yolo. What I was thinking of was that this is the time of our lives to look for what we really want to do. Isn’t it? Life, it seems is so complicated. When we are young, we are told, when we grow up we can be anything! In school we are told, that if we graduate, the world is our oyster, and we can do anything! In highschool we were told, if we graduate and go to college, we can do anything we want. Now I am in university, and we are told that once we finish these four years of undergraduate university we can do whatever we want! But I have been talking to masters students, and PhD students, and they say the same thing. Masters students say after their masters is done, they can go out and do anything. PhD students, the same. So my question is, what time in your life can you really do whatever you want. What DO we really want? Man, this is so complicated. I should be studying for finals right now!
 
xxxx[sappy stuff, that will get you too horny]xxxx
My Name
So, world, yes I do write words like “soul-to-soul” like a man from the 17th century. Yes I do wear a monocle and yes, you got me, I have sixteen kids that are all sixteen with 8 wives because they all gave birth to twins. (Dumbass help: If each of the 8 wives gives birth to twins, 8x2=16. That’s why I have 16 kids…Oh you dont get it? Well go fuck yourself)

Triangle OCD

Today I am going to talk about something very personal to me. Something that gives me satisfaction, and might help you, readers, relate with me. I will also talk about the logic of this topic and go into the science and mathematics of it. So let’s go on a wonderful ride with unicorns and rainbows and weed-infused cheese used on a pizza with shroom toppings and lots of Pink Floyd.

Okay, so a few days ago, I was walking down a long road, around 1-300 meters long and I wanted to cross the road to go on the other side. However, I was on the one corner of the road at A (see figure below) and I wanted to get across the road to B. Now, I don’t know when I developed this OCD with Pythagorean theorem but I just need to exploit the fact that the hypotenuse of a triangle is the shortest distance across its two ends. Now many of you uneducated retards might not get what I mean. Here is a link to the “Simple-English” version of Wikipedia because you are so stupid: http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pythagorean_theorem

Now, that you know what I deal with, I want to make it known that this is really becoming a problem for me. It’s like everywhere I go, I look for this geometry shit. I always want to walk the hypotenuse. And doing this occupies my mind so much that I forget to think or keep track of other shit.

I figured out that the level of satisfaction I get from using this rule is in a bell-curve shape with respect to the position where I start crossing over. Maybe the figure below might help you understand this better.

Now, I don’t know why I think like this. It’s kind of an OCD because when I am with people and they don’t take the shortest path, it irritates me. So it feels like as much as I wished my life was a little simpler, its full of triangles. I don’t have anything against triangles because frankly, baby, triangles are the shit. You cannot draw diagonals in it! Isn’t that fucking awesome. And it’s been proven to be the most stable form of structure possible to build. So fuck all you square-lovers and all you noobs-who-don’t-know-that-all-polygons-can-be-made-outta-triangles! Triangles rule. But being obsessed with them is kind of annoying. Just because you can’t spend a day without noticing triangles everywhere.

Space Babies

I was talking with a few friends of mine over a tea/sammich and the topic was space children. Let’s jump right in. So the nearest star to the earth Proxima Centauri (A part of the Alpha Centauri system) is about 4.24 light-years. This means that using the best current space vehicle we have, it would take about 27000 years to reach it (assuming there is a habitable planet nearby). Yes you read that right. Twenty seven thousand fucking years, man. That is, assuming the average human life span to be around 90 years, 3000 fucking generations. (We will return to this later)

Now to go there (like, literally go there, none of that robot shit) we could do one of two things. Either advance our medicine so much that we could live for more than 27090 years (90 because once you get there you want to explore and shit too!) or, make a spaceship like in Wall-E where 3000 generations can live. There are a few problems that arise from that:

• What do you do with the dead bodies? Sure you can cremate them and chuck ‘em out into the cold vast space so that they are one with the universe, but what about religious people. Say, a Christian astronaut wants to be buried in a grave. What do you do?

• Do you make this voyage an atheist/person who doesn’t mind being cremated exclusive? There are ethical implications of that which say that you are basically stopping religious people from participating in science. Oh no, what to do?? There is no easy answer to those questions so I won’t bother trying to answer. The thing is, once you start reproducing in space, the human anatomical structure would be affected. You will basically have tall ass babies who are weak as shit.

This is because on earth, the human body is under constant gravitational influence so it has to work against this force to grow whereas that would not exist in space so people would grow taller than your creepy neighbor’s dick as he voyeuristically peers into your bathroom window as you shower. Now, to create the gravitational force artificially, you could have a rotating space vehicle. This would create centripetal force which would pull you down. For those of you readers who are illiterate in physics, this might help: http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centripetal_force Creating a spaceship which has enough energy to rotate (and power the ship) for 27000 years, you would need massive amounts of energy which I have not worked out how you would get. (Maybe by then we would have worked out how fusion could work)

Assume for a bit, shit went down and you have enough energy. Imagine having sex in zero gravity. The best position would probably be like 69. Missionary would just not work. You would keep pushing and pushing, and no matter how black you are, she’d be all like, “You in yet?” Ok, so rotate that shit and you got gravity. So good sex. The thing is, after 3000 generations, would we really care about earth? Because all we would know are stories about this mysterious land that we come from and we are on a mission. Sounds like something else doesn’t it? Sound like religion?

We are told of a mysterious heaven where we started and now we are on a journey to another life, and this life is just a process. We serve a greater purpose in life and we will be rewarded at the end. That’s essentially what we will be telling those generation born on board the ship. And seeing as atheists arose on earth from religion, wouldn’t humans stop believing some of the stuff we tell them after, say 100 years? Maybe 2000? Its kinda fucked up… How do you stop facts turning into religion?

There’s also the fact that every baby born on the ship will not be science oriented. As in, there might be some dumbasses or retarded people born on the ship too. How do you stop them becoming a liability? Do you turn them into hamsters who run on the treadmill to power the ship as a hairy man dressed completely in latex whips them urging them to run faster? Here is what I mean, for those of you who aren’t into bondage porn.

Another problem is population control. As we all know we are having trouble controlling people here on earth. 7 fucking billion of us and we keep growing. Now, earth is pretty huge. Like its fucking enormous. A spaceship will not even be 1/10 the size of earth. How do you stop people from expanding? Do you hold secret/public executions? Do you go all “The Giver” or “1984” on them? Just release em out into space or use them as food? One person suggested to me that by the time this happens they’d have matter-to-energy-to-matter converters which would essentially convert photons into massive particles and effectively make amino-acids and proteins which could then be used as food sources.

So there you go, we have so much shit to figure out before we even think about going out of the solar system because it’s not like we can make a pit stop every month for supplies. FUCK YOU NASA! FIGURE THIS SHIT OUT ALREADY!

Slimey, Yet Satisfying

People are weird. We are filled with hypocrisy and misjudgement. We preach certain things but do completely opposite actions. We say we learn from our mistakes but do we ever? I don’t know if we do. By that I’m not saying that I actually don’t know, I’m just saying that I don’t think we learn from ‘em. Why? Cause we are dumbasses. I mean, what other explanation could you come up with? We all just keep judging people who try to be unique and creative, and we criticize people who stay underground and avoid the society’s mainstream. We even disparage people who copy the society and follow the crowd. Go with the flow, so to speak. One has to pose the question:

What the fuck do we really want?

It seems like the human race itself can be expressed as a immature hotheaded teenager or a woman on her period. While we might not like it, we behave as the previously mentioned teenager. Our hormones are out of control and we get fucking pissed off when a little thing goes wrong and bomb the fuck out of Iraq, or start a civil war, or start raping and exporting women, and girls as sex slaves to Europe.

Some of my rock-enthusiast readers might know that The Foo Fighters have a song called These Days, and I think it’s a rather well thought to think about before going ape shit on other places. Here’s a snippet:

One of these days the ground
will drop out from beneath
your feet

One of these days your heart
will stop and play its final
beat 

One of these days the clocks
will stop and time won’t
mean a thing

One of these days their bombs
will drop and silence
everything 

But it’s all right
Yet it’s all right
I said it’s all right

If you look at fucking, animals. They don’t give a single particle of shit about whether another lion is unique or not. All they want is to kill fucking buffalos and shit. And that’s not cause they are stupid teens, they just need food. So I advice humans, to go kill chickens and pigs and shit instead of humans. And do so when you need to eat. Not because you are a shit hole angry ass. Also lions have sex. A LOT OF FUCKING SEX. 22 FUCKING TIMES A DAY. LEARN FROM THEM YOU MOFOs.

PEACE YOU SLIMEY BITCHES!

Stupidity

At first, I was going to write about Facebook whores. Bitches whose entire lives (including personal shit) is on social networks. Well, I changed my mind because right now I don’t feel like giving a single ribbon of shit about other people. I have enough shit going on in my own life that I couldn’t care less about what goes on, on Facebook.

What I want to talk about though, is something special. I want to talk about stupidity and misunderstandings. I realised recently that humans can be very very, oh so very, stupid sometimes. By humans, yes I mean myself too. Sometimes we just don’t realise what we have and chuck it away misjudging its importance to us.

The weird thing is that if we saw someone else make those mistakes, we’d be like “oh shit, look at that asshole, fucking his life up”. But then we go ahead and make the same mistakes. I’ll tell you guys a story to illustrate my point.

We peer into the life of Jim. Jim is a lonely teenager. He stays alone most days, and he goes to school, and comes back with rarely any other interaction in between. At nights, he gets sad and contemplates his life. He thinks about what he might have been doing wrong. No conclusion ever arrives.

One average night, as he walks alone and cold along the street he always walks after school, he sees something shiny on the ground. He bends down and picks it up. It is a piece of paper, gold foiled. It says the following words on it:

"This is the answer to life"

Jim did not think much of the writing, and just thought that it looked cool. So he carefully slipped it into his pocket trying not to harm it. After that he normally walked home. It was colder than average and Jim was feeling especially lonely.

The next morning Jim woke up earlier than his alarm. The sun was shining outside and its soft vitamin D rich rays filtered through his window onto his bed, making it slightly warm so it was relaxing to his muscles. Jim smiled. A first in many months. After brushing his teeth, he made himself a nice omelet for breakfast.

After finishing his food, as he got up, he stubbed his toe on the corner of the table. He fell on the floor and grunted with pain. The golden paper fell out of his pocket. Angry, he stuffed the paper into his wallet and headed to school.

As months passed by, Jim enjoyed waking up to the sunlit summer sky. He started smiling often. He thought his life had finally turned around. He wondered “why” sometimes, but always decided to ignore it, afraid he might jinx it. He let it be. And  the good days went on. However he noticed that on the rare occasion something negative happened, the golden paper was always in his pocket. Being late for school, getting yelled at by someone, getting hurt, whatever it may be, the paper was always there.

After a while, he got annoyed and blamed the paper for all the rare mishaps that happened in his life. He started thinking that the paper was the answer to his minor problems.

One night, as he was making dinner in the kitchen, he slipped on some water and as he fell his head hit the corner of the dinner table. He screamed in pain and frustration and anger. The first thought that came to his mind was that the paper was in his pocket. He was pissed off. His skull hurt, and his spine felt like someone had impaled him. In his state he took the paper out and chucked it out the window. He rubbed his back as he watched the wind blow the paper away onto the street and away.

After dinner, he watched some TV. His favourite show was on. Feeling sleepy, he went to bed early. Around 10pm.

The next morning, was a dark, rainy one. It was rather cold and the sky was completely blanketed by dark clouds. Jim didn’t feel like getting up. He felt miserable. He didn’t know why.

Winter was coming. And Jim couldn’t smile anymore. The paper had taken away the happiness with it as jim threw it out of his life. Jim was now alone once again. He would remain sad, and in search of a day when he could find happiness again.

Jim, ladies and gents, is our stupid human. He is everyone of us. He is me. Stupid Jim. Maybe no one will get the point of this post. Maybe some might. I hope someone does. I really do.

Badonka donk

Since arriving in Canada, I stumbled upon a YouTube channel called Vice. It’s basically an internet “company” that makes documentaries about various things social, political, environmental, etc. Being independent their documentaries provide a rather unbiased view of reality. I thought these guys were complete badasses just because of the amount of danger involved in the filming of some of their documentaries. Despite studying engineering, I’d say that their job sounds way more interesting than a desk job in a financial company (which is what most engineers end up doing due to the pay and ease). Either that, or a theoretical physicist sounds awesome. Or a rock star, but then again, that’s everyone’s dream.

That’s the thing, no one knows what they want to do with their lives. A few days ago, I met a guy in his fourth year of university and he said that he doesn’t know what he wants to do, in terms of a career. So I don’t know if it’s fair of society to expect me to know already. However, I have to choose my specialty by march 2013.

Canada is a “fun” country, I think. For me as a man, especially because of the lack of conservativeness in the females here. Compared to Japan, the girls here are a little more grown up, less feminine in some ways and more feminine in others, and less perfect (meaning there is a great deal of variety). Now, for girls reading this, please don’t get offended and hate message me on Facebook because this is just my opinion. It’s a free world, bitches.

So from what I saw, Japanese girls like to cover up more, and I mean way more than Canadian ones. So for example an average girl (atleast in the campus here) would be wearing a tank top with those short shorts, and when they sit on the bus, their legs are never bound together and as the bus moves it becomes a matter of life and death whether to stare at the badonk or not. Bounce Bounce Bounce.

Japanese girls are completely opposite. They’d wear dresses often, or even if they wear those booty shorts, they’d be rather long (compared to here) and I rarely saw a Japanese girl wear a tank top. Of course there are exceptions, but we are talking about the general public here. Japanese girls like to close their legs and sit as compactly as they can. Well, I guess they have to or else they’ll be raped by either a hentai old man, or the death stares of the other people in the bus. Death stares that say “You, girl, are a big slutty whore.” So I guess it’s a cultural thing.

I haven’t yet gotten a chance to take my camera out for a walk. It’s sitting alone in its bag growing fat on unused battery life. I rarely even try to take it out because of the safety risk I face here. Opposite to Tokyo, here, it is a little more risky to walk around with expensive glass. Just a while ago someone lost a bike and laptop right out of their residence. So I’m keeping it under lock and key for now. I’ll take more photos as I grow into this city. It’s still a new thing for me.

Wow this is already 500 words. Back in school I dreaded writing even half of this. I guess when you’re forced to write about something, it doesn’t really come out. It’s the same as if desperately trying to jack off a monkey to impregnate a human. It just won’t happen. All you will get is a diseased vagina with HIV and god-knows-what other diseases. (Don’t try this at home, you perverts!)

 

Where Am I?

I haven’t written for a while now, since I landed in Canada in fact. Reasons for this are various, of which there is no real point getting into. So, here I am, in Canada on my own. So far, it has worked out well. I’ve done my laundry, my room’s clean, been eating my veggies and going to the gym so any reason for mom to worry is obliterated. I’ve even been finding all (except one) classes very easy since I did all this stuff in high school.

So, basically what I realised was that if the financial responsibility is not considered for a second, then an average kid should be good to go out into the real world and should be able to survive on his/her own without help from parents. Keep in mind, that this is still an initial thought that I have and that we neglected financial responsibility in this argument.

This seems like such a teenager thing to say. “Oh leave me alone! I can do it all by myself” says the teen right before ramming his car into an on-coming train which had a steel rod coming out of it, that stabs into the windshield and consequently through his seat, just barely missing his head. After catching his breath, and calming down he looks to the back seat to realize that his mother wasn’t as lucky. So I’ll try not to sound like a dumbass teen but you have to remember, that I AM a dumbass teenager and sometimes I can’t help my dumbassery.

My room looks like a prison cell. Barren walls with the bricks/tiles ridging out are painted a creamy white color. I call it jizzy white because of its obvious similarity to the color of  human semen. I got a ripped chair that I am scared to sit on as I value my hip bone/spine greatly. There is no AC. It is a box that spits out centrally controlled air like an aged bulldog whose lips have sagged down like a woman’s belly after liposuction. The carpet is a sick grey-brown color and I dare not walk barefoot on it.

Anyway, I made a sort-of room tour in a dramatic filmic sort of way, when I was bored on Sunday. So I’ll share it here so you get to see my prison-cell looking room.

Alas, The Final Day.

I don’t really know what to talk about. I’ve always had a basic idea of what I wanted in certain times of my life. Even if I wasn’t clear, I had the bone structure of it. Now though, its all so maze-like. I suppose it’s part of life. I think I need a wise monk right now, or a Dumbledore-type guy to help me figure out this part of life.

Anyways, it will be goodbye soon, I hope to be writing even in canada. Though I might not have enough time to.

Goodbye. It is time for us to find our own doors in life.

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